


Valentine's Last Stand

by celticmuse



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Family, Humor, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24915076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse
Summary: For Christine Chapel, Valentine's Day has become a mortal enemy.  So why should this year be any different?
Relationships: Christine Chapel/Spock
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

"I'm a doctor, damn it, not a florist."

Doctor Christine Chapel looked up from the chartpadd she'd been perusing to discover yet another elaborate floral arrangement had taken up residence in the outer office. 

"Come on, Leonard, lighten up. It’s Valentine's Day." She rose from the desk and refilled her coffee mug then, hoping to soothe his ruffled feathers, she refilled his cup as well. 

"Looks like a cotton pickin' funeral home in here," he soldiered on seemingly undaunted by her efforts to placate him. 

"Hey don't give me that look--none of them are for me," she shot back tartly, then cringed at the pathetic edge of disappointment in her voice. Christine hated everything about Valentine's Day. What kind of sadistic monster would fabricate a holiday designed to plunge a knife into the heart of every lonely lovelorn being in the galaxy? 

Where was the justice of allowing all the happy, madly-in-love people in the world get a whole day every year to flaunt their good fortune in the face of those who found love an endless series of disillusionment and disappointment. 

Valentine's Day had declared war on Christine Chapel at an early aged, firing the first salvo just a few weeks before her eleventh birthday. A shy, gangly girl, who, courtesy of a prepubescent growth spurt towered over most of her classmates, she had miraculously worked up the courage to give a boy in her class an elaborate handmade Valentine card. Marco Buonarotti, no relation to Michelangelo, had most ungraciously rejected the poetic proffer of her glitter encrusted metaphorical heart, and on her way home from school had literally added insult to injury by chasing her down with his friends yelling _"brutto anatroccolo"_ ugly duck and _"giagante"_ giant. 

It had taken two years for her heart to heal when Renaldo Berra, the fourteen-year-old star kicker of the Santa Croce _calico >/i> club had asked her to their school's Valentine's dance, her first real date. She'd spent a month doing chores at her mother's clinic to get the money for the flowery floor-length dress and pearly pink high heeled shoes she'd seen in the window of one of the small shops on the Oltrarno. She'd spent an hour curling her long golden-brown hair, and her mother had even broken down and allowed her to wear make-up like the other girls. _

_Christine had waited for Renaldo on the verdigris wrought iron bench on the front porch, feeling like a princess on her throne, the bells of the Duomo mockingly enumerating each of the hours as she waited for her prince. But unlike the fairy tales, Prince Renaldo was a no show, and finally, as the bells tolled ten she crept up the stairs, said goodnight to her parents and cried herself to sleep._

_She'd heard the other girls laughing and gossiping the next morning as she came out of church with her parents. It seemed that Renaldo had shown up at the dance with Carmela Lucido, the most beautiful and popular girl in her class. Christine packed up her princess gown and shoes and stowed the box away in the fourth floor attic and never looked at a boy again until she was eighteen years old._

_That was the summer that Doctor Roger, her father's former intern, came back to Florence to spend the summer with her family. Three months later she followed her fiancé, Doctor Roger Korby, onto a transport for San Francisco and the start a new life. But her ancient enemy was not finished with her. Roger had not been one for romance, and had accepted the flowery card she presented him on their first Valentine’s Day as a couple with a dismissive sort of tolerance. Thus put on notice she'd not acknowledged the holiday again._

_She was struck with the bitter irony that the last time she'd seen Roger was on Valentine's Day as he boarded the shuttle for Earth Spacedock to make the connection for the ship that would carry him out of her life forever._

_Even now, after all this time, it was hard for Christine to admit that she hadn't really been in love with Roger. She'd admired and respected him, and he'd opened her eyes to new worlds and new ideas. She'd cared for him, deeply, and she was certain that if he'd not postponed their wedding when the spot on the ship to Exo III opened up they would have had a secure and companionable marriage._

_During the four years after Roger was declared lost each Valentine's Day was another grim reminder that her future hopes and dreams remained in limbo. Then she'd gotten word that the USS Enterprise was scheduled to make a stop at EXO III and Christine had managed to secure the billet as head nurse. It had ended badly to say the least. Roger had been dead for years, and then she'd found herself in love with the Vulcan First Officer of the ship. Four more years of Valentine's Days followed, each an annual reminder that she was hopelessly in love with a man who would never return that love._

_But without a doubt, the cruelest blow, and the final nail in the coffin of Valentine's Day, had come one year ago today. She'd been busy prepping for her interview at Starfleet Medical. Apparently graduating at the top of her med school class had garnered considerable notice and she was being considered for Len's old job as CMO on the refitted Enterprise._

_The door chime had sounded for the tenth time that morning, no doubt signaling another in the endless parade of delivery persons laden with flowers, chocolates, and heaven knows what else for Christine's roommate._

_But instead the door slid open to reveal a rather young tight faced Vulcan male. He'd spoken her name, and when she'd nodded he handed her the clothlike envelope addressed in the quaint spidery script she'd immediately recognized as Spock's handwriting. Her heart was pounding and her thoughts racing as she'd traced over her name on the silvery cloth._

_For thirty magical seconds Christine Chapel wasn't the ugly duckling or the giant, she wasn't the lovesick young nurse who'd spent every Valentine's Day eating alone in her quarters hiding from the tables of blissful lovers in the mess hall. She was the princess in the flowery dress and the pearly pink shoes dancing on a starry Florentine night._

_And then she'd opened the envelope. His missive had been succinct and to the point; with emotionless but deadly efficiency he'd been able to break her heart with only two sentences._

__"I have resigned my commission with Starfleet to pursue the ritual discipline of the Kohlinar. Live Long and Prosper."_ _

_"None of these are yours?" McCoy's soft drawl brought her back to the present._

_"Valentine's day and I have never been on good terms."_

_“I’m sure that green-blooded hobgoblin will come through with some flowers and chocolate."_

_"Spock? I don't imagine that Vulcans celebrate Valentine's Day, and even if they did I doubt he'd be giving me anything other than more overtime in the labs."_

_"Aw come on, Chris, don't try to kid a kidder, I've seen the two of you having dinner in the Officer's Mess."_

_"We've been meeting for dinner to discuss our work in the lab."_

_"Every night? Makes me wonder exactly what you two are working on in the lab? Maybe some biology' experiments? “McCoy rocked back on his heels, a Cheshire Cat grin softening his craggy features._

_"It's not every night…and get your mind out of the gutter. Look, we're in a good place professionally, and he's finally comfortable around me. Please don't ruin it by needling him about me."_

_"So are you meeting him for dinner tonight?"_

_"I doubt it. They're doing a special Valentine's dinner in the Officer's Mess. I can just picture him hoisting up that eyebrow at all the frilly decorations and blatant emotionalism. To be honest Len, I'm not really up to another battle with Valentine's Day. It's kind of turned into my own private _Kobiashi Maru_."_

_"Lieutenant Ames?"_

_Christine turned to find a perky yeoman at the door with a dozen roses._

_"No, she's making rounds in the ward." Christine scanned the outer office and scowled at the realization that every horizontal surface was covered with floral arrangements._

_"I surrender!" she laughed as she handed the chartpadd to McCoy._

_"You surrender?"_

_"Yes, I'm waving the white flag, standing down my troops, total uncategorical capitulation." She held her hands over her head and laughed heartily. "Valentine's Day thirty two, Chapel zero…and on that note, I'm going to meet Nyota for lunch."_


	2. Chapter 2

The doors to the turbolift parted and Spock instinctively raised his mental shields against the inevitable barrage of chaotic thoughts and emotions emanating from the unruly queue of humans spilling out of the transporter room into the passageway.

Although he did not regret his decision to resume life aboard the Enterprise, with the concomitant consequence of living once again among humans, there were times when he found their lack of even the most basic mental discipline extremely taxing. He considered momentarily simply moving to the head of the line, as his position as Executive Officer would have certainly allowed for such, but he was not on ship's business and so quietly took his place in the noisy queue. 

A pair of obviously exhausted ensigns exited the transporter room, each steering a large antigrav unit laden with elaborate floral arrangements and garishly festooned gift boxes. He bit back the rising swell of distaste at yet another human exercise in emotional excess. Then, without warning a childhood memory flooded his consciousness. 

He had been perhaps three terran years of age as he sat on the on the cool stone counter of the kitchen in his family's country house at Keldeen. It was quite early in the morning; he recalled clearly the first light from Vulcan's trio of suns trickling in through the glass doors that connected the kitchen to the patio. 

_"Hizhuk safu,"_ Sarek had admonished him gently, "we must not awaken your mother" Spock had watched in fascination as his father dutifully added each of the strange ingredients to the large ceramic bowl. 

_"Da…da kuh…da reh…ken kuh…"_ "Yes my child there are four _yu mur. _" Sarek patted the boy gently on the head then returned his attention to the information on the padd.__

__Spock rolled one of the small ecru colored ovoids along the countertop with a tentative finger. They did not look like the bright green shelled _yu mur_ that T'Kim gathered each morning from the small flock of domesticated _Tal-laya_ in the _aushfa-kel_. He continued to push the alien object a bit farther this time, captivated by the odd way it wobbled as it moved over the counter. _ _

__"We are almost finished, child." Sarek assured him absently as he rummaged through the drawers searching for some sort of mixing tool._ _

__Spock gave the alien egg one final roll, his pudgy fingers pushing a bit harder than he'd intended, sending it skittering off of the countertop and crashing to the shining polished red sandstone floor below._ _

__Sarek spun back around just in time to see the egg smash against the floor._ _

___"Spo-kah…"_ but before he could finish his thought the lights snapped on and a voice called from the doorway. _ _

__"What kind of mess are you two making of my kitchen?'_ _

__Spock's eyes widened, confused by the juxtaposition of his mother's stern words but the obviously happy tone in her voice._ _

__"We are preparing breakfast, _aduna."__ _

__"I see, "she said.”And what are we having?" she asked her young son as she opened a drawer and handed Sarek the utensil he'd been seeking._ _

__"Paint aches," Spock announced proudly as she eased him off the counter and down to the floor._ _

__"Pancakes," Sarek corrected._ _

__"Pan…cakes," the boy repeated back. "With star berries."_ _

__"Strawberries, safu."_ _

__"Straw… berries."_ _

__"Oh Sarek…that last time I had pancakes with strawberries…"_ _

__"Aduna." Sarek nodded tightly toward the small boy now sitting by her feet. She edged closer to her husband._ _

__"You brought them to our bed."_ _

__"You said you were too fatigued to dine at table."_ _

__"And who was it that caused my fatigue?"_ _

__"Surly it was all of the dancing at our Terran wedding reception."_ _

__"I don't believe it was the dancing."_ _

__"It was a highly memorable night, my wife."_ _

__"I didn't think Vulcans would celebrate such an overtly emotional holiday as St. Valentine's Day." "The celebration of such a Terran holiday would be deemed most illogical here on Vulcan."_ _

__"And yet with the Council in session you are here cooking breakfast? Fascinating."_ _

__"I had hoped you would find it so."_ _

__Though Spock had observed the interaction between his parents he had only really understood what he'd seen that morning during the meld with V'ger. Strange but all of those years growing up on Vulcan, he'd only seen his mother as bending to the Vulcan Way, surrendering herself to the seemingly intractable demands of her alien marriage, but he was now beginning to see the small compromises and concessions that his father had made over the years, how he too had allowed himself to bend to provide for Amanda's needs to strengthen the bond between them._ _

__"Commander Spock," the young cargo tech flashed a brief smile, and then furtively scrolled though her padd. "We have a package for you. Can you key in your passcode, sir?"_ _

__Spock took the proffered padd and tapped in his authentication sequence. A moment later the young woman handed him a stasis container bearing the seal of the Vulcan embassy._ _

__"Happy Valentine's Day, sir."_ _

__"Thank you, ensign," he replied, uncertain if there was some formulaic response that was expected, finally settling on "may your day be without incident.”_ _

__Spock headed back toward the turbolift feeling an uncharacteristic lightheartedness and a surprising craving for pancakes with strawberries._ _


	3. Chapter 3

"Don't even say it Ny, I know, I'm an idiot." Christine confessed as she picked absently at her salad.

"You're not an idiot, Chris. It was Valentine's Day, why wouldn't you think it was a Valentine card. What was he thinking sending you something like that on Valentine's Day? Spock's the idiot, and an insensitive jerk to boot." 

"I'm sure he didn't have a clue. I don't imagine they have Valentine's Day on Vulcan. It's just…I was really starting to get over him and in that thirty seconds I was right back at square one. It's not his fault that Valentine's Day has it in for me." 

"If Vulcans had Valentine's Day, can you imagine the cards?" Nyota laughed. "I'm sure they'd be highly logical…probably a holo of an actual green heart …and of course something equally logical written inside. 'I would give you my heart, but that would have a grievously negative impact on my circulatory functions, however I have made arrangements, upon the event of my death, to have the aforementioned organ removed and placed in a stasis container to be delivered to you as a lasting memento of my regard.'"

Christine leaned back in her chair laughing uncontrollably at her friend's comical impression of Vulcan imperiousness. 

"That's way too romantic for a Vulcan." She smiled wickedly. "I think they'd go with something more to the point. Like maybe a holo of a big green penis that says, "Hey baby, it's getting to be that time of the decade.'"

"Ohgrmphf…" Nyota struggled to keep from spitting a mouthful of coffee onto the table. “How about, 'Open hailing frequencies, incoming transmission'?" 

“Or maybe, 'Drop your shields and prepare to be boarded'?" 

"Do you really think Vulcans can only, "Nyota leaned forward and lowered her voice "you know…launch the rocket…once every seven years?" "Hard to say… there's really nothing in the medical literature, and of course Vulcans aren't the most forthcoming species when it comes to sharing any "rocket launch" data." 

"So you checked it out?" Uhrua laughed. 

"I believe we've already established that I'm an idiot. Arghhh!" Christine groaned and buried her face in her hands. "How does that man keep getting under my skin? I don't think Valentine's Day is going to give up until it kills me." 

"Aw honey, come on…it's just a day. You're young and beautiful...you need to get out there and meet some men." 

"Starfleet is over seventy percent men, Ny. If I can't find a man here I doubt I'm going to find one. Sorry," she said setting her fork down on the plate, "I guess I'm not very good company today. I swear next year I'm taking a week of leave and spending it on a deserted island on a planet that's never heard of Valentine's Day. Okay that's enough about me and my pathetic non love life. Who's wining and dining you tonight." "Monty Scott," She answered smiling coyly. "So you two are on again?" 

"Maybe…we're having dinner with Jan and Hikaru in the Officer's Mess. You know you're welcome to join us, Chris." 

"I know, Ny and it's sweet of you to offer, but the only two things worse than being alone on Valentine's Day and one of them is being the "fifth wheel" on someone else's Valentine's Day double date." 

"What's the other thing?" 

"Having dinner with Len and the Captain which I also turned down." 

"Doctor McCoy and Captain Kirk? Now that's an odd couple for sure." 

"Neither one of them is seeing anyone, but the chef is serving a special steak and lobster dinner for two in the private dining room so they decided to, and I quote, 'buddy up'." 

"So then what are you going to do tonight?" 

"I thought about spending the evening in the labs, but I figured that's probably where Spock will be hiding out, so instead I've decided to lock myself in my quarters with some holo flicks, a bowl of popcorn and a half gallon of Deltan chocolate chunk ice cream." 

"Hitting the hard stuff. Are you sure you're okay, honey?" 

"I'll be fine, Ny, really. It's just a day, and I'll find a way to get through it… and then I'll have three hundred and sixty-four days to brace myself for next year. "

"Darn…it's thirteen hundred hours, I’ve got to get back on duty. We've been flooded with last minute comms. It's been dead on the bridge and so I've been routing some of them through my station to help out." 

"We've been flooded with contraceptive updates all morning. Why do people wait till the last minute?" 

"You know if you change your mind about tonight…" "I won't… forget about me and have a great time with Jan and Hikaru. You know, sometimes when I look at the two of them I almost start believing in love." 

"Well I believe in love." 

"I used to believe in love. Now I believe in chocolate."


	4. Chapter 4

"We were, of course, surprised by your request…but your father…'feels'" she paused smiling impishly, her blue eyes sparkling in obvious enjoyment at the ironic turn of phrase, "that your logic in the matter is sound. It is possible, as you suggest, that T'Pau may be displeased, but your grandmother has been displeased in the past and has lived to tell the tale. Your father and I agree that his mother's pleasure, or lack thereof, should not be a factor in your final decision in this matter.

"I've included a package with what you'll need should you decide to proceed. I will offer you only one piece of motherly advice dear. If you are truly committed to the success of this course you might want to make a concerted effort to avoid using the word 'logic'." The impish smile returned for a moment, then her eyes softened and she leaned in close to the screen. "Spock, please know that, as always my son, whatever you choose do, you will have a proud mother who loves you with all her heart." 

Spock paused the message and studied the face of woman on the screen. His mother appeared older, and perhaps a bit more frail than the last time he'd seen her. The heavier gravity and harsh climate of Vulcan had left its mark on her less hearty Terran body, yet somehow her gentle, loving nature had remained untouched despite Vulcan's even harsher emotional climate. He closed his eyes and allowed the tender feelings he'd never been able to share wash over him. "As I have loved you, mother." 

He stood up from the computer terminal and moved back to the bed where he'd left the package from his mother. It was carefully wrapped with shimmering opalescent fabric, with the official seal of the Vulcan Embassy. He toyed absently with the corded tie on the package. His mother's advice to avoid the use of the word "logic" in the proposed endeavor was highly misplaced. He was long past any pretense that logic was governing his desire to pursue this choice. 

His eyes gravitated to the soft flickering light from the _asenoi_ , and he longed for the respite several hours of deep meditation might provide him. His eyes returned to the shimmering package on his bed. Perhaps, he decided, a shower might help to clear his mind. He stripped off his uniform tossing it into the laundry slot in the fresher, then programmed a hot shower. 

Christine frowned as the thirty second warning beep interrupted her thoughts. Feeling decadent, she entered her medical override code to add three extra minutes of the deliciously hot water cascading over her aching limbs. She probably should feel guilty about such a blatant misuse of her medical authorization, she mused, but on this particular day she didn't. 

When the second warning beep came, she staved off the temptation to use another override and quickly rinsed the last of the shampoo from her hair. She wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and grabbed the bottle of pale pink body lotion she kept by the basin. 

Christine allowed the towel to drop around her feet and took a long critical look at her reflection in the full length mirrorscreen. Not bad for a woman fast approaching thirty three years of age. She may have lost the battle with Valentine's Day, but she was doing quite well in the war against gravity. Even with the ten pounds she'd put at med school, her body was in great shape, her creamy porcelain skin still firm and unlined. 

After recapping the lotion, she fluffed her dark, curly hair. The natural chestnut brown color looked much better than the varying shades of blond she'd experimented with throughout her twenties. What an insecure, mousy thing she'd been, changing her hair to suit Roger's preference for blondes. The Christine Chapel looking back from the mirror would never change herself for a man. If that meant spending her life alone then so be it. At least she would be spending her life with someone she liked and respected. 

"Look here, Lieutenant Chapel, you’re almost thirty-three years old, you graduated a five year med program in eighteen months at the top of your class, you had your choice of over a dozen highly desirable billets in Fleet…you're not going to let yourself be taken down by one damn day!" 

Feeling a strange sense of victory, she slipped into her favorite stretchy night shirt and marched out of the fresher to face the enemy head on.


	5. Chapter 5

Spock checked his reflection in the small mirror over the basin. The shower had been most ineffective in helping to unravel his tangled thoughts and emotions. "This simple feeling." He laughed bitterly at his own naiveté in the wake of the meld with the entity calling itself V'ger. There was nothing simple about feelings, particularly when they involved humans.

He had committed himself to this course of action; it was illogical to begin second guessing himself at this juncture. And yet, he could not stem the tide of anxious thoughts plaguing him in the past twelve hours. As with all interaction involving humans, the staggering number of illogical and unpredictable variables made any attempt to calculate the odds of the preferred outcome pointless. 

He briefly considered wearing his dress uniform but bypassed it in favor of more simple Vulcan attire, choosing a deep burgundy evening tunic embroidered with the markings of his clan and a matching pair of silky loose fitting pants. Almost as an afterthought, he added the IDIC medallion his father had presented him to commemorate the completion of his kah's wan, and fought off a chilling sense of déjà vu at the sudden recollection of dressing for the bonding to T'Pring nearly a quarter of a Terran century earlier. 

_Kroykah!_ He curtly ordered the disquieting images from his consciousness. It was illogical to dwell on the mistakes of the past, this was his opportunity to move forward. He picked up the package and walked through the doors toward the turbolift. A moment later he returned and dropped the package on the bed and removed the medallion placing it next to the package. He smoothed his hair then walked back through the doors. A full minute later the doors swooshed open and he walked back to his bed. Sighing, he donned the medallion and retrieved the package, turned off the lights and walked quickly down the passageway toward the turbolift. 

Nyota Uhura felt like a twenty third century Alice in Wonderland as she walked through the gaily decorated doors of the Officer's Mess. Crisp, pristine white tablecloths, flickering pink and gold candles, elegant long stemmed red roses and several thousand tiny sparkling lights attached to the ceiling had transformed the cold institutional dining hall into a magically romantic bistro complete with tuxedoed waiters and a real string quartet playing soft romantic music. 

"Good Evening," the young food services yeoman playing _maître d_ said as he checked his padd. "Your table is ready, but I'm afraid the rest of your party has not yet arrived. May I seat you now or would you prefer to wait?" 

"I've been running all day, sugar," she replied laughing softly, "I think my feet would prefer to be seated." 

"Very good, Miss." Her host nodded formally then led her through the crowded dining room to one of the tables near the viewport. 

"Would you care for a glass of champagne while you're waiting?" he asked as he pulled out a chair for her. 

"Why yes, that would be lovely, thank you." 

As he walked away she took a sip of the sweet, bubbly wine, certain that everyone in the room could see the sappy grin plastered across her face. She checked out her reflection in the transparent aluminum view port. She'd paid an unthinkable number of credits for the form fitting crimson dress but it was more than worth it. It clung to her curves like a second skin and the spidery golden embroidery perfectly accentuated the low cut bodice. You clean up pretty darn good, girl, she mused brushing a softly curled tendril of dark hair back behind her ear. I don't think Mr. Scott will be thinking about his warp coils tonight. 

She gazed around the room with delight drinking in the romantic atmosphere until her gaze rested on the dark figure seated at the next table. The dramatic pointed ears and the decidedly Vulcan browline were unmistakable even in the low light emanating from the screen of the padd he'd been quietly reading. 

"Mister Spock, I can't believe you're reading in here?" she blurted out, immediately regretting the reproachful tone in her voice. 

"Indeed ,Miss Uhura," he responded evenly as he looked up from the padd, "for a human it would be quite impossible given the dearth of lighting.' He switched off the device and set it down on the table. "Certainly you are not dining alone?" 

"No," she smiled awkwardly, feeling a sudden pang of remorse for the coarse humor she'd indulged in earlier at his expense. "Scotty and I are having dinner with Janice and Hikaru. If you'd like you would be more than welcome to join us." "A most gracious offer, however I must respectfully decline as I am awaiting a dinner companion as well." 

"I thought the Captain was having dinner with Doctor McCoy in the private dining room?" "I was not apprised as to the precise nature of the Captain’s plans, though I believe that he and the good doctor are sharing the evening meal." He nodded in the direction of the mess hall doors. "It would appear that the rest of your dinner companions have arrived. Hopefully, Doctor Chapel will not be far behind." 

"You're having dinner with Christine?" 

"Yes, though this lapse in punctuality is most uncharacteristic of her. Perhaps she has been detained with a patient? 

"Did she know you were planning to have dinner with her?" 

"We routinely share endmeal on this same night every week, I cannot image that she would have forgotten." 

"Commander Spock," Scotty said with a jovial smile. "I didn't know Vulcans celebrated Valentine's Day." 

Spock rose from his seat, acknowledging with a nod the greetings from Rand and Sulu. "In serving among humans I have found it logical to make certain adjustments and accommodations for human cultural expectations." 

Nyota stood and welcomed the her date with a quick kiss on the cheek. "Can you excuse me for just a minute, sug?" she whispered, "I need to discuss a bit of a communications problem with Mister Spock. I'll just be a minute." 

"A word, Commander?" she asked anxiously retaking her seat. 

"Were we not just having words, Lieutenant?" 

"Words of a…more private nature sir? May I sit down for a moment?" 

"Of course." 

"Look …I don't know exactly how to say this to you…but…well…Chris…Christine isn't coming." 

"She's not coming?" 

"No she's having… well dinner I guess…in her quarters." 

"She is unwell?" 

"No, she's not unwell, she's just…kind of…well I don't think she knew you were expecting her to join you for dinner." 

"As I have already explained, we customarily consume our endmeal together on this day." 

"Right but…in case you haven't noticed" her dark eyes rolled in exasperation, "It's Valentine's Day." 

"One would have to be both blind and deaf to escape that fact, Lieutenant." 

"Well…"she sighed, "it's just…you're a man and she's a woman…"

"Yes, I am aware of that." 

"And it's Valentine's Day." 

"I believe we have established that fact as well, Lieutenant." 

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" 

"I would have it no other way, Miss Uhura." 

"Chris…damn she's going to kill me if she finds out I've told you this…there's no good way to say it…and I realize it's not something you want to hear…but I'm just going to say it , Christine is still in love with you." 

"I was uncertain if that was still the case." 

"Well it is still the case, and she's done darn good job hiding it. But today… well Valentine's Day can be twenty-four hours of abject misery when you don't have someone. Every glittery heart, every perfect red rose, every box of chocolates, every flickering candle on the dinner table, every sappy love song …it's like a personal reminder that everyone in the whole world has someone who loves them, everybody but you." 

"This lack of reciprocated emotion has caused her distress?" 

"She'll be fine," Nyota assured him, touched by the genuine concern she saw in his eyes. "Tomorrow all of the coaches will turn back into pumpkins and everything will be back to normal." 

"Pumpkins?" 

"It's a figure of speech. Everything will be fine…just…please don't let her know what I told you." 

"I am appreciative of your instruction in this matter, and shall endeavor to maintain the confidentiality of our communication." 

"Thanks, I should get back to Scotty before he decides he'd rather be having dinner with his warp coils." 

"Enjoy your dinner, Miss Uhura." He said rising as she stood. "You too, sir." 

Spock reseated himself and sat in silence staring through steepled fingers at the flickering light of the candle on his table. Why, he wondered for perhaps the ten thousandth time could no interaction with humans be simple and logical. 


	6. Chapter 6

_"I watched C-beams glitter in the dawn near the Tanhauser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time…like tears in rain…Time to die."_

"Computer, terminate holovid" Christine Chapel's voice trembled as she choked back a sob. Sighing, she wiped the salty tears streaming down her cheeks with the soft woven coverlet she'd wrapped around herself. 

"Seriously, Christine," she scolded herself angrily and rose from the couch. "Blade Runner? Twenty thousand holovids to choose from and you managed to pick the one with a psychotic scientist making psychotic androids? Happy Freaking Valentine's Day!" 

Half-heartedly she clicked back to the menu screen, scrolled through to the classic films section settling on an innocuous sounding comedy. Truth be told, she would just have soon gone to bed if it hadn't seemed like admitting defeat. As the vid began she programmed a large container of popcorn with extra butter and salt. The screen on the replicator flashed a warning: "CAUTION: Consumption of Animal fats in this quantity may promote unhealthy weight gain and heart disease-Cancel or Proceed?" 

Death by butterfat? Surely there were worse ways to go she decided with a soft chuckle as she touched "Proceed".

The display flashed again "Caution: Consumption of sodium in this quantity may promote high blood pressure or edema-Cancel or Proceed?" 

"Just give me my damn popcorn!" she demanded, pounding her fist on the word "Proceed".

She fixed the replicator with a menacing gaze, defying it to flash yet another warning, but her electronic nemesis had apparently thrown in the towel and within a few seconds the cabin was filled with the tantalizing aroma of fresh popcorn and real honest to God, artery clogging, cows mooing, Terran butter. Less than four hours, she mused checking the chrono on her desk, and Valentine's Day along with its cruel minions of arrow shooting, fat flying babies would be history, at least until next year. 

Christine had just settled herself into her impromptu fortress of pillows and blankets when her door chime sounded. 

"What the hell?" Christine paused the holovid. Who on earth would be at her door at this time of night? She wasn't on call…and even it Geoff needed her he would have sent an emergency comm. Most likely it was Ny, or worse Len, checking to see if she was okay. 

"Go away!' She growled. 

But it appeared her protest fell on deaf ears as the door chime sounded once again. 

"I mean it, go away! I've got a large bowl of extremely dangerous popcorn in here… and I'm not afraid to use it!" 

But her would-be guest was unfazed by threats of high cholesterol snackfood and her chime rang a third time. 

"For the last time," she screamed, "Go away now, unless you have a medical emergency then go away and call Doctor M'Benga!" 

She set the bowl of popcorn on the table and rose from the sofa, an angry diatribe locked and loaded in preparation for the next sounding of the chime. Instead she was greeted with four melodic notes followed by the soft swooshing sound of the pneumatic doors sliding open. 

"What the hell…" she halted speechless as the dark, imposing figure stepped crisply through the parted durasteel doors. 

"May I come in?" 

"You're already in, Commander," she scowled angrily. "What part of 'go away' don't you understand?" 

"I wish to speak with you." 

"I'm kind of busy right now." She said, tugging nervously at the hem of the stretchy nightshirt, caught in a sudden wave of embarrassment at its revealing nature. 

Spock raised an amused eyebrow as his gaze journeyed from the couch, to the popcorn, then moved to the holovid and finally back to her. 

"May I sit down?" 

"I'm not exactly dressed for guests." 

"No, you are not." He responded with that uniquely annoying Vulcan aplomb, as though sitting down for a friendly chat with a woman wearing nothing but a clingy nightshirt was something he did on a daily basis. His gaze shifted between the small couch and the overstuffed chair. 

Christine barely managed to quash the exasperated sigh that was struggling to escape. The enemy had cunningly managed to outflank her with the ultimate weapon, more lethal than an arsenal of photon torpedoes: it was the heartbreaking, soul crushing, Vulcan logic bomb. It was an ingenious move, utterly diabolical, apparently there was no length this insipid holiday wouldn't traverse to best her. 

"Have a seat," Christine nodded indicating the couch as she cautiously seated herself in the chair to his left, aware that her brief nightshirt would provide even less coverage when she was seated. She wasn't certain if she should feel relieved or annoyed that the phlegmatic Vulcan did not appear to notice. 

"You wanted to speak to me?" 

"I waited for some time, but you did not come to dinner." 

"Dinner? No, I…I" Christine found herself curiously unsettled by the uncharacteristic intensity of his gaze. "I was… tired when I got off shift…so…well… I decided to have a shower and eat dinner here. I wasn't really in the mood for all the…you know …all the hoopla in the Mess tonight. I'm sorry…I didn't realize that you would be there waiting." 

"Is it not our custom to share the endmeal on this evening?" 

"Well…yes, but the Captain cancelled all nonessential staff meetings tonight because…well, for some people…it's sort of… a…a holiday. I assumed that given the illogical nature of the celebration that…well that you would…I don't know…it just seemed awkward…and…well I just needed an evening off work for a change. In fact…well…I've been meaning to say something to you about this for a while. In the future, I think we should schedule our meetings during our on duty time rather than personal time." 

Christine was perplexed to see his bearing stiffen as he crossed his arms across his chest, and the softer, more open expression that she'd come to associate with the post V'ger Spock became hard, and surprisingly peevish for a Vulcan." It is not I who has persisted in bringing work to our shared meals, Christine." 

"Right," she said, inexplicably defensive, "so…then…we were…what… on a date?'

"Vulcans do not date, Christine." 

"Yeah, I guess if you're only having sex once every seven years the whole dating thing is hardly worth the trouble." 

"Really Christine, such churlishness is most unbecoming. Vulcan males are pledged to a bond mate following the completion of the ritual _kan s'wan_. As I understand the human convention of dating, it is a ritualization of your primitive ancestors' hunt to secure a female for the purposes of mating. As a Vulcan male already possesses a mate, the recreation of the prehistoric hunting model is illog--" he paused abruptly and took a breath "unnecessary." 

"Leonard was right. You really can even make sex sound boring." 

He reached forward and scooped up a handful of the popcorn, studying it for a moment before cautiously popping a piece into his mouth. 

"Oh, please, help yourself." 

"Vulcan males are quite capable of mating outside of the seven year cycle, doctor, given adequate motivation." 

"I'll be sure to add that information to your chart in the morning. So…are we done here?" 

Spock appeared about to respond when he was interrupted by the sound of the door chime. "Come." Spock said as he rose and moved toward the doorway. 

Before Christine had a chance to register her protest at the addition of yet another interloper, the durasteel doors swooshed open revealing a yeoman with an antigrav unit. 

"Right there will be fine." The young man acknowledged the Commander's tight nod and lowered the unit to the decking. A startled gasp escaped Christine's lips as she jumped to her feet and saw the shimmering stasis field surrounding what appeared to be a small elegant table with containers of food and two gleaming china place settings and a small vase of flowers. The young man handed a small device to Spock before leaving. 

"What the…" Christine felt her cheeks redden as Spock's gaze reminded her of her state of near undress. 

"Perhaps you might wish to change into something less…"--he raised an elegant eyebrow and Christine was certain she'd seen the faintest trace of a smile brush across his lips--"comfortable… before we begin our meal?" 

Christine crossed her arms across her chest, the gesture a strange mixture of modesty and defiance and fixed him with a hard stare. 

"What is this?" 

" _Aru-yem_ , I believe your people call it 'dinner'." 

"I can see it's dinner! What is it doing here in my quarters?" 

"I am hungry… and I do not believe your present attire would lend itself to an excursion to the Officer's Mess." 

"Well maybe I'm not hungry." 

"I would find your statement less specious if I could not actually hear your stomach rumbling." 

Noticing that his gaze remained focused on her legs, she anxiously tugged the hem of the stretchy fabric down in an abortive attempt to cover her bare thighs. 

He responded, again raising an amused eyebrow and shifting his gaze upward to her now half bared breasts. 

"I am hungry." She conceded gazing inquisitively toward the table. "What are we having?" 

Spock touched the tiny device and the stasis field dissipated revealing an artfully arranged plate of colorful vegetable antipasti, and another plate covered with thick slices of bright red tomatoes interleaved with thin slices of creamy white cheese and fragrant green basil. 

"How on earth did you get fresh basil and … saffron? Is that Rissoto Milanese?" 

"Mister Sulu graciously provided the basil and saffron from his hydroponic garden." 

"Okay, give me a few minutes to change into something more…appropriate." 

She retreated into the small dressing area, still puzzling over Spock showing up tonight of all nights. She tossed the nightshirt into the laundry recycle slot and quickly slipped into a bra and panties. 

"What exactly does one wear when one's tight assed Vulcan superior officer, and ostensible love of said one's life, shows up unannounced on Valentine's Day with dinner?" she mused wryly as she surveyed the contents of her closet. 

Her wardrobe, which skewed heavily to dutywear, stood in mute testament to her dismal failure to establish any sort of meaningful social life since her reposting to the Enterprise. With the exception of her regular "girls night in" with Jan and Ny, and her weekly aftershift dinner with Leonard, her off duty time had been spent working in the biolabs with Spock and their frequent dinner meetings, which he now claimed hadn't been meetings at all. _"It is not I who has persisted in bring work to our shared meals Christine."_ What in the hell was that supposed to mean? And why on earth had she brought up the Vulcan mating cycle? This whole thing was starting to give her a headache. 

She took a deep calming breath. First things first, Christine. She slipped on her black jersey dinner dress, its ankle length and three quarter sleeves considerably more decorous than her previous attire. 

She returned to her living area to find that Spock had dimmed the room's lighting and was lighting the candles on the table. 

"Okay that's it. Computer, lights up full!" she called out. "What exactly is going on here? Did Nyota or Leonard put you up to this?" 

"I do not understand your question?" He said as he poured out two glasses of wine. 

"Wine, candlelight, you, me, alone in my cabin" she shook her head, "this is hardly our 'customary' dinner Mr. Spock…so I'm asking you again, what exactly is going on?" 

"It is Valentine's Day Christine. My research indicated that a special meal would be well received. I was careful to incorporate foods for which you have shown marked preference in the past…yet you appear to be displeased." 

"I'm not…displeased, just…kind of, I don't know…more like…confused." 

"Confused?" "I…you," she felt her cheeks reddening as she stammered nervously, "you're…well… Vulcan." 

"And you find that confusing?" 

"No, but I didn't think Vulcans celebrate Valentine's Day." 

"As a rule they do not." 

So you're…breaking a rule?" 

"It is not one of the Tenents of Surak, Christine." He responded with unveiled amusement. "Perhaps breaking with custom, might be more precise." 

"So, basically, you're just trying to be nice and I'm being an extraordinarily rude and unappreciative witch." 

"I would perhaps express it with more diplomatically chosen words, but I believe you have captured the essence of, as you put it, 'what is going on here.'"

"I'm sorry for being so…suspicious. Valentine's Day really isn't one of my favorite holidays, it tends to bring out my more cynical side." 

"I was under the impression that human females held this holiday in high regard?" 

"Most do…but for some of us… it's…it can…hurt to be alone on Valentine's Day." 

"Now it is I who is confused. Were you not here alone of your own choice?" 

"That's not what I…" she paused and regarded him for a moment.”I think you may have missed some of the finer points of Valentine's Day in your research." 

"I believe my research methods were quite thorough, although I must admit I had not considered the possibility that you would find the holiday so…unsettling." 

"I would have thought you'd figured out after all this time among humans that when it comes to our emotions we're very unpredictable." 

"I have noticed that proclivity." 

"I'm sure you have." She laughed softly and took a sip of the wine. "Vernaccia…that's my favorite. How on earth did you get a bottle?" 

"My mother secured it last month during a trip to Earth with my father." 

"Shall we be seated for our meal?" 

"There is something I wish to give your first." He pulled the cloth wrapped package from under the table and handed it to her. 

"This lovely dinner and now a gift? You're definitely breaking with custom this evening, Commander. Shall I open it now or after dinner?" 

"Open it now." 

"For some reason I'm always terribly self-conscious when I open a gift…I guess it's a good thing I don't get that many Carefully she unlooped the silky cord and removed the wrapping to reveal a length of beautifully woven fabric embellished with rich metallic embroidery. 

"It's…exquisite. What is it?" she asked as she unfolded it. 

_“Sai-tukh orifih-kil skann_ …it bears the ancestral markings of my family, it is a tradition from the time before Surak. It is meant to be worn by the female." 

She moved her fingers over the florid script in delighted fascination. "It's incredible, but I don't understand, why would you give something like this to me?" 

He canted his head slightly to the left regarding her for a moment. "Tradition dictates the presentation of the _ta'am ugaya –mnah_ incumbent upon the one making the _afsakayu_." She wrapped the beautiful shawl around herself and moved toward the mirror beside her dresser to admire it. _"ta'am guan…_ " she struggled to pronounce the alien words. 

_"Ta'am ugaya-mnah"_ he said softly as he moved behind her and gently adjusted the garment so that it covered her left shoulder then, draping it across her torso, he used the hidden fastener to secure it to her hip allowing the ends to dangle down to the middle of her calf. "The _ta'am_ , it means the gift… it the symbol of the _ugaya-mnah_ the pledge of joining". In donning it you show your acceptance of the _afsakayu._ "

"The pledge of joining…what exactly am I joining?" It sounded like he was making her some sort of honorary Vulcan or something. Seriously, she wondered, how much weirder was this day going to get? 

"Christine.” He sighed, "For such an intelligent woman you can be exasperatingly obtuse." 

"Maybe I'd be less 'obtuse' if you'd start making a little sense. You show up here with a candlelight dinner and a 'ta'am uga mooah." 

_"Ta'am ugay-mnah"_ "Whatever, you show up here on Valentine's Day, which, if you'd done a better job researching, you'd know was an extraordinarily insensitive thing to do when you know…you know…" she choked back a sob as she fumbled with the fastener on the shawl. 

"When I know what?" 

"When you know I'm in love with you! Seriously, everyone else on the whole damn ship knows….and you think I'm obtuse? This is exactly why I hate Valentine's Day…it's just another heaping helping of salt on the wound! So just take your candles and dinner and get the hell out of my quarters." 

"Are you quite finished?" 

"Yes." 

"Very well then let us return to our meal." He said holding out a hand toward her. She responded with an agitated glare. "I've lost my appetite." 

"Well I find myself quite hungry. I spent my morning meal period arranging the details of our dinner, and my afternoon meal period configuring three thousand nine hundred and twenty two digitals lights into a visual representation of the stars as viewed from the center of Florence, although it does appear now to have been a wasted gesture on my part." 

"What….why…"

"It is Valentine's Day, Christine. Is it not a day for settling matters of the heart?" 

"Matters of the heart?" 

"I concur that we should schedule our meetings that relate to ship's business during our duty shifts and reserve our off duty time to meetings of a more… intimate nature." 

"Intimate nature? So…all of this, you…meant for it to be…romantic?" 

"I admit, as a Vulcan, the concept of romance is rather difficult to grasp, but I have endeavored to abide by the proprieties and protocols that are deemed important to creating an atmosphere conducive to the engendering of romantic feelings." 

He reached out and took her arm, gently steering her toward the candlelit table. 

"Computer, lights ten percent." He whispered as he pulled out her chair, then suddenly her eyes widened. 

"Wait...what exactly is the pledge of joining?" 

This time she was quite certain that he smiled. He wrapped his arms tenderly around her pulling her into a long, slow, deep kiss. When he finally broke the kiss Christine found herself barely able to catch her breath. "Ah…joining." 

His warm hands moved eagerly and possessively over her and his soft lips reclaimed hers in a tenderly probing kiss. 

"I thought you were hungry?" she teased as their lips parted. 

"I am quite hungry," he whispered, his voice heavy with desire as he took her hand and led her toward the sleeping alcove. 

"I hope I can provide 'sufficient motivation'." 

"Oh I am quite confident that you will provide more than sufficient motivation." He whispered as he undid the fastening of her dress, and his warm wet mouth moved with tantalizing slowness down her body Christine groaned with pleasure and she felt his other hand as it moved to her temple his facile fingertips seeking out the psi points. 

Joining…yes…alien words, thoughts, images and yes she realized with a start Vulcan emotions washed over her, through her, exploring her emotions and desires, each like a golden thread, finding a compliment within the heart of the other and twining together…joining them into one. 

She allowed herself one final cognizant thought before surrendering to the building tsunami of human and Vulcan passions churning within her. 

"Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all?"


End file.
